The Borg vs The Empire Part II: The Invasion
by zephyran
Summary: As a failure of a commander prepares for his fate, Vader and the Emperor become all too aware of the return of the greatest danger the Empire has ever faced... Rated for violence and mild language.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all related characters, names, etc. are property of Lucasfilm, LTD. Star Trek, The Borg, and all related indicia are property of Paramount Pictures, Inc. The author does not have the permission to use either Star Trek or Star Wars in this fic, and is making no money from writing this.

  
  


Note: This fic is the second part of the story I wrote in "The Borg vs. The Empire Part I: The Death Star" (available here on FanFiction.net).

  
  


Prologue

  


It is three years since the Borg first arrived in the galaxy and confronted the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Death Star. Although the Death Star had temporarily defeated the Borg's plan to invade Coruscant, the Borg escaped, leaving a few of their own on the massive space station. The small collection of drones transported over to the Death Star with orders to assimilate the space station. Those drones were subsequently destroyed by the dark powers of Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith.

The surviving Borg included both the Borg Queen and her new mate, former Grand Moff Tarkin. They diverted their course from Coruscant in favor of a more secluded, more easily acquired target: the Maw Installation, a weapons research facility established by Tarkin himself. It was there the Borg could secretly build up their forces while assimilating the latest military technology in the galaxy.

After Darth Vader destroyed the Borg assimilating the Death Star, his sudden saturation in the Dark Force helped him see something that he had not before: Leia Organa, his royal prisoner, was his biological daughter. He confronted her with this information, and using her natural aptitude with the Force and her anger toward him, gradually seduced her to the Dark Side. 

Thanks to Vader's new control over Leia, she revealed the location of the secret base of the Rebellion, on a moon orbiting the planet Yavin IV. However, unbeknownst to Vader, a motley group of adventurers, led by Vader's old master Obi Wan Kenobi, had already delivered blueprints of the Death Star to the Rebellion. The Rebels found a weakness in the supposedly invincible battle station, and were ready with a fleet of starfighters when the Death Star arrived at the Yavin system. 

Vader, immediately detecting a pattern to the fighters' attacks, took his apprentice with him in his prototype TIE fighter as he attempted to stop the Rebel fighters. However, Vader was foiled by the interference of Han Solo, a spice smuggler who had been hired by Kenobi to assist them and the Rebellion. With Vader's ship momentarily disabled, a particularly strong Force-adept pilot fired two proton torpedoes down an exhaust vent into the Death Star's power core, detonating it and obliterating the space station.

Meanwhile, the Borg built up their fleet, preparing.

Vader, his pride as damaged as his ship, fled from Yavin with his daughter. Despite Vader's failure to stop the Rebels, the Emperor granted Vader command of the entire Imperial fleet and sent him on a mission to eradicate the Rebellion once and for all. Leia Skywalker accompanied her father, and as time passed, she learned more and more of the power Vader intended for her use to rule over all lesser beings.

Unaware of any existing Borg threat, the Empire has become complacent in their feeling that their resources are properly allocated to hunt down and fight what they saw as their only real opposition. What it doesn't know, though, is that the Borg are about to return, their goal being total control over the galaxy. Whatever the cost.

This time there may be no stopping them…


	2. Chapter 1: Final Preparations

Disclaimer: Star Wars and everything related belongs to Lucasfilm. Star Trek and everything related belongs to Paramount. This fanfic is written without permission of either the aforementioned parties.

  
  


Chapter 1: Final Preparations

  


Space at its strictest definition is an abstract term. It is, essentially, the lack of matter. However, as species of the galaxy began to leave the confines of their planets and explore worlds beyond their own, "space" came to have a new meaning. It was a gigantic container, larger than any mortal could fathom, that held all of creation.

That container stores a variety of things, from the beautiful to the ugly, from gentle to violent. And no more beautiful or violent object has been discovered than the quantum singularity, also known as a "black hole." It is an object whose mass and density are so great that its own gravity field pulls itself into a zero-dimensional point. Anything, even light itself, that crosses the threshold of the black hole is pulled inside, never again to exist in the known universe. 

The only measurable clue of a black hole's existence is the accretion disk: a ring of swirling matter caught in a death spiral falling toward the singularity's event horizon. That matter, being forcefully compressed, emits a nearly limitless supply of energy, that could serve both as a power source and an effective camouflage for those brave and foolish enough to venture near them.

It was this courage and foolishness, mixed with insatiable greed, that a special collection of singularities, known as The Maw, served as the nearly impenetrable walls for a top-secret Imperial research station. However, the man who had been personally responsible for establishing the base had more recently brought a new command to The Maw Installation. One whose power could even challenge the mighty Galactic Empire.

_The Borg._

That man, once known as Imperial Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin, had chosen of his own free will to prostrate himself before the Borg Queen and accept the position as her equal in the Collective. His power was now second only to the Queen's, and allowed him to pursue his own ambitions away from the stifling monarchy of the Emperor and his pet, Darth Vader.

And now, with the fleet the Borg had amassed, Locutus Tarkin was preparing to eliminate Emperor Palpatine's obsolete form of government, in favor of a much more efficient and perfect existence. All species would become one with the Borg. Their consciousnesses would enrich the Collective, filling it with their knowledge and memories, while also improving themselves by casting off their flawed organic way of life.

Tarkin watched over the fleet he had helped create, and felt a sense of pride, as he never had before. Yet his pride did not distract him from the task at hand. He calculated any and all possible eventualities in their upcoming offensive, including both those he had known as a human, and those he would have created had he remained with the Empire. With the greater mind of the Collective at his disposal, he calculated scenarios in fractions of a second that, for a human mind, would have taken hours, days, or even longer. 

In the months since his ascension to the role of the Borg Queen's Locutus, he had had most of his body removed and was now, like the Queen, a disembodied torso and head, with little desire for any body. He found such an existence very liberating for his mind, as the ships before him and the thousands upon thousands of Borg drones inside them were the only limbs he would ever need.

Thanks to his new ruler, he had been able to surpass the mortality of his limited physical body, and his consciousness was now a ubiquitous part of the Collective. Even if what was left of his original body died, he would forever live on in the Collective. Live on to rule the indestructible forces whose mere beginning was floating in space before him.

As the Queen concentrated most of her thoughts on the fleet's preparations, she gazed upon her equal. A small smile creeped up her lips. She had chosen well. Her new Locutus was intelligent and forceful, yet his quest for personal power above all else has made him easy to bend to her will. She had channeled that lust for power into fierce desire for the Borg race to control all. And thanks to Tarkin's knowledge, the Borg had been able to evolve from a handful of drones and a portion of a ship to an entire armada of attack vessels and thousands of warriors.

All were built for one purpose: _Assimilate._

The Queen began to receive confirmations from hundreds of separate subsystems. All were reporting ready status.

_Our forces are ready_, said the Queen to Tarkin through the song of the Collective. _Our destiny awaits._

One of Tarkin's main concerns, however, could not be so easily placated. _Our communications network has still not made contact with the seed we left on the Death Star._

The Collective had left a legion of drones on the battle station after they escaped with Tarkin to The Maw. The intention had been to slowly assimilate the moon-sized weapon from within; as it was the only weapon they could not shield against, the Queen saw much reason in removing it as a potential threat to the Borg. 

The Queen had been surprised, but not overly concerned, over their inability to contact the drones they had left on the Death Star. The network of communications relays the Borg had deployed connecting the core of The Maw to the space outside was newly-assimilated from the Maw scientists, and had been untested even by _them_. Although the Collective had picked up some local radio chatter, they could not confirm whether or not the network was sensitive enough for inter-sector subspace transmissions.

_It does not matter_, she said. _That was a small group of drones, and even if they were somehow destroyed, it would make little difference. Once we have taken our first worlds and established our fleet, the Death Star will be useless against us. We will prevail._

_Yes, my Queen,_ said Tarkin. He allowed his consciousness a second to bathe itself in the pure order of the Collective, and in the power of his mistress. _Our time is here. Kessel will be our first step into the assimilation of all star systems and species in the galaxy. The entire Imperial Starfleet could not stand against us._

The Queen agreed fully. Just one of her ships was able to easily decimate dozens of Federation starships in their home galaxy. Although the Imperial Star Destroyers, the bulk of the Empire's fleet, were more powerful than Federation ships, they had proven to be even less effective against the Borg. 

The Queen stretched herself out through the entire Borg neural network, taking final stock of their base. Their central control nexus, where the Queen and Tarkin resided as the core hubs of the Collective, was inside the former administration module of the Maw Installation. Standing ready nearby the nexus were over two dozen Borg cube and sphere ships. Nearly half the ships were created from material salvaged from the Imperial Star Destroyer fleet that had previously guarded the Maw Installation. The rest had been built from resources replicated by harnessing the endless energies released by the accretion discs of the black holes surrounding the installation.

Their plan was simple and efficient. The cubes would spread out through the Kessel system, assimilating all planets at once. Because Kessel was a very small planet and consisted mostly of mining facilities and some Imperial prisons, it would be very easy to assimilate. However, because of its vital role in both legitimate and illegal trade throughout the galaxy, it would send a powerful message to all species: _The Borg are coming._

Not only had Tarkin's knowledge been useful, but his tactical and strategic planning were far superior to any such skills the Collective had possessed previously. Tarkin had recommended attacking Kessel for two reasons. First, that their assimilation of the planet would stop the galactic distribution of many precious minerals and spices. Second, that their attack would likely summon much of the Imperial fleet to defend the mining world. They may lose one, perhaps two cubes in the battle, depending on how many Imperial ships engaged them. However, eventually they would have gained not only thousands or even millions of new drones, but also enough raw materials to build dozens, or perhaps hundreds, more ships. Enough to quickly exterminate the Empire's core and begin systematically spreading to all systems in the galaxy.

They needn't even worry about the Empire's Death Star. With a thousand drone eyes, she gazed upon their newest weapon: a sphere ship over a hundred kilometers in diameter. Other than its size, it was identical to all other Borg sphere ships except for one detail: approximately midway between the ship's equator and northern pole was a parabolic dish embossed into the ship's surface. 

When the Borg had arrived at the Maw installation, the early prototype of the Death Star had been sitting idle, docked at the station. The Borg had completely assimilated it, and aside from making it a fully functioning Borg ship, they had improved the firing capability of the primary weapon, making it more powerful and able to lock onto targets as small as TIE fighters, if necessary. Only the gigantic ship's propulsion proved to be a hardship. Because they could not construct a transwarp engine with enough power output to move the giant ship at faster-than-light speeds, they were forced to install hyperdrive engines that they had removed from the assimilated Star Destroyers.

The Queen had considered installing the faster hyperdrive engines on all her ships, but decided that the easier maneuverability and quicker response time of their warp engines was more efficient, and would serve them until they constructed a new transwarp conduit network in this galaxy. She did not care that they would take longer to traverse galactic distances than other species in the galaxy. Speed was irrelevant. Time was irrelevant. Ultimately, the Borg would control all. And, being immortal, the Queen had all the time in the universe. 

The harmony a thousand murmurs washed over her mind. _All ships are in position_, reported Tarkin.

_It is time, Locutus._ The Queen's pride flowed out from every tendril of her consciousness. _The galaxy is ours._


	3. Chapter 2: Dark Apprentice

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. Star Wars and Star Trek are both owned by their respective companies. The author has no permission to use them, and is receiving no compensation for writing this work.

  
  


Chapter 2: Dark Apprentice

  


Black holes, although the most violent, aren't necessarily the most dangerous of all objects in space. A black hole has no desire to destroy that which it devours. It has no drive to absorb matter, nor any malice toward it. It is a force of nature, no more, no less. 

On the other hand, there are things that seek out what they destroy, and often do it with great satisfaction. They have the drive to envelop everything within their grasp, and the constant hunger for more victims.

Those objects, however, do hold one thing in common with black holes. They are the epitome of darkness.

Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith, was one such object. Although once a kind man named Anakin Skywalker, Vader had been seduced to the Dark Side and trained in the ways of the Sith by Emperor Palpatine. Shortly afterward, he and Palpatine led a crusade to destroy the Jedi Order, the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. It was then that Vader gained his reputation for swift, merciless action against those that displeased him; murder, to him, was as easy to do, and as easily-acceptable to him, as scratching an itch. He was notorious for summarily executing Imperial officers who failed to meet his expectations.

The Dark Lord had two primary duties in Palpatine's Empire. First, he was to locate and eradicate the Rebellion, a motley collection of "freedom fighters" leading what they called a "civil war" against the New Order. If his viciousness against his own subordinates was any clue, his action against the Rebels would be swift, merciless, and bloody.

Second, he was to train his apprentice as a Dark Jedi. Her potential nearly matched his own, and she would be the perfect candidate to lead the Emperor's army of Dark Jedi, once she had fully succumbed to the Dark Side.

Vader stood on the bridge of the newly launched Super Star Destroyer _Executor_. He watched the fleet surrounding his ship, stretching out with the Force to monitor them and ensure they were operating at peak efficiency. Command was a duty he took very seriously, and failure was not tolerated.

He always had to remain on guard; Imperial officers did not get into positions of command without any sort of ambition, and he could tell that many of them envied his unique position of command, given his non-military background. There had been plots on his life by a few of his subordinates, and none had gone unpunished. However, the people who, in Vader's view, were vastly inferior to him each continued to believe that they were clever enough to bring down the Dark Lord. Although Vader could execute them at will, he chose to continue using them until the moment their treachery made them worthless.

Vader's concentration was stirred by a familiar sensation growing behind him. "Come, my apprentice," he said without moving.

"Yes, Father."

From behind approached a figure clad all in black, with only her pale face uncovered. Leia Skywalker, former Senator and Princess of Alderaan, was Vader's biological daughter, conceived just before his descent into darkness. She had been adopted by the royal family of Alderaan shortly after her birth, unknowing of her true lineage. Soon after her capture and imprisonment aboard the Death Star, Vader had revealed to her both that he was indeed her father, and that she, like he, had a very strong attunement with the Force.

At first, she fought the truth of her existence, and even attempted to use Vader's newfound attention toward her as either a means of escape or of the Dark Lord's destruction. However, over weeks of Vader's tactics of dark seduction and simple Force training, she began to see who she truly was and what she could do. She came to realize that if the Emperor and Vader could use their power to take control of the galaxy, she could use her own power to break their control over the countless innocents. She could bring an end to the battles across the galaxy that were taking the lives of millions of beings and bring true order to the galaxy. Believing it was her only choice, she joined Vader.

Her hair was cut short in a military style that was both attractive and feminine, but a total rejection of her adopted Alderaanian heritage; women in the society of Alderaan were strongly discouraged to cut their hair at any time in their adult life. Their hair was an indication of their grace and of their planet's symbiotic relationship with nature. However, as Alderaan had been obliterated, she no longer felt the need to keep with the traditions of a dead world. It would only serve to get in her way, and washing it would have been a useless waste of time.

Leia trained in using the Force to increase her physical and mental strength, and to use her anger, fear, and hate to augment her abilities. Although she sometimes faltered, having once been a loving, caring person, she found strength in using her hate toward Vader and Grand Moff Tarkin for the destruction of her home. She knew that in order to eradicate Vader and his Emperor, she must delve into their powers of darkness and use them when the time was right. She reminded herself daily of her ultimate goal, but her purpose had become slightly more clouded and opaque as each day in the service of the Emperor passed by. She could not fathom it yet, but the Dark Side of the Force was irrevocably consuming her from the inside out.

Leia stood at her master's left side. Twenty years of age now, her face carried the expression of one much older. Her brow was permanently furrowed, eyes intelligent yet missing the gleam of life. She wore an outfit very similar to Vader's, with a leather-like bodysuit and gloves, and a long, flowing black cape covering the newly constructed lightsaber at her belt.

Vader, still motionless, said, "You know the information I have to share with you."

"Yes, Father, I have felt it," she said. Her voice, once bursting with haughtiness and passion, was now flat and grim, like that of a mortician who had dealt far more with corpses than with live creatures. "You have found out the name of the young Force-adept whose shot destroyed the Death Star."

"Yes, my daughter, I have," replied Vader. He turned his head slightly so that her face was in his peripheral vision. "But this person is much more than a Force-adept. His name is Luke Skywalker. My son, and your brother."

Leia's eyes widened. She let out a half-gasp before composing herself. "I thought you said you and my mother only conceived a child once."

"That is correct. Skywalker, therefore, is your _twin_ brother."

Leia turned her body to fully face Vader. "If he is my brother, then he must also be highly attuned to the Force. Do we know if he has been trained?"

Vader turned to face her. He stood a full half-meter higher than her; she had inherited her mother's petite stature. "When I was close to him in the Death Star trench, just before my ship was disabled, I felt him consciously use the Force to focus his attack. I also felt another presence touching his mind from a distance. The presence was that of my old master, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

That name struck a chord inside Leia. Two years ago, she had sent a distress signal to Obi-Wan Kenobi through an astromech droid, begging him to help the Rebel Alliance destroy the Death Star. With that message she had included detailed blueprints for the space station itself. Not long afterward, the Rebels had indeed used those plans to find the battle station's single weakness and exploit it, obliterating the gigantic weapon. 

It had been the one event that gave her soul the energy to stay alive through such a desperate time. During her Force training, as she began to touch the darkness in her heart, she had let slip the location of the Rebel base on a moon of Yavin 4. Not wasting any time, Vader ordered the moon destroyed. Once the Death Star arrived in that system, however, it encountered the small squadron of Rebel fighters, that had ultimately destroyed it.

Thoughts of that past stirred the remains of her humanity, which had once filled her soul before Vader drove it into hiding with his teachings of hate and power lust. She felt some awareness of her true mission return, along with a renewed sense of confidence that the path she was taking was the correct one.

If Vader noticed her surge of feelings, he made no indication of it. Instead, he turned and headed toward the turbo elevator outside the rear of the bridge. Leia dutifully followed, managing to keep pace with her master without looking hurried. She could feel the tinges of fury on his soul at the mention of the Death Star.

Leia had already been punished, severely, for sending the distress call and technical plans to Kenobi, so she felt no great anxiety within her from this new revelation. Nor did she sense any animosity from Vader, despite the fact that _he_ was also severely punished by the Emperor for losing the battle station. Wisely, she chose to let that particular subject die.

Once they were inside the elevator and the hatch had closed, she said, "Both Skywalker and Kenobi could pose great danger to us, if Skywalker becomes a Jedi."

"Indeed," said Vader, again motionless. "I have recently begun to feel a great disturbance in the Force."

"As have I, Father," Leia concurred. However, she wasn't sure if it was her brother and the old Jedi that she felt, or if it was something else. She dismissed her uncertainty, figuring she wasn't yet attuned enough to the Force.

"But remember," Vader growled, "only two Sith were able to almost entirely destroy the Jedi order. By the time we confront Kenobi and his pupil, you will be a formidable Sith indeed."

Leia's eyes lowered to the floor. Although Vader's statement of her becoming a Sith was no surprise to her, she felt it was time to press him for an answer to a long-unasked question. "I thought the Emperor forbade you to teach me the ways of the Sith."

Vader turned quickly to his student, not out of anger, but in an attempt to intimidate her. He felt slight satisfaction as she noticeably leaned away from him. He raised his index finger to her and shook it at each emphasis point of his next statement. "The Emperor is locked in the old ways. He fails to see that more than two Sith can exist at one time, so long as all have a common purpose." Vader turned back away from her and continued in a smoother tone, "He will come to appreciate the need of a new order of Dark warriors, trained in the ways of the Sith, to help him maintain control against the ambitious military minds of those such as Tarkin."

Leia understood perfectly, perhaps even more so than Vader had expected. Emperor Palpatine rarely used his powers any more; the Dark Side flowing through him was rapidly dissolving his body, making him age far more rapidly than he would naturally. Yet despite this, he was still the Sith Master. Leia had stolen occasional glances through Vader's books of Sith lore without his knowledge, and by the most ancient of precepts, only a Master and an Apprentice could exist at any one time. If more than two Sith existed, they would all be driven by ambition and greed to battle each other until all but two were dead. The more powerful of the survivors would be the Master, and the other the Apprentice.

With what little Leia had read of Sith lore, she knew that it was not simply an old set of rules to be tossed aside at convenience. She also knew that, despite Vader's claims, he was not stupid. He knew and followed those rules. If she were to become a Sith, either Vader or the Emperor would have to die, whether by her hand or theirs. And she knew that, despite Vader's statement about a "Sith order" to help the Emperor maintain control, Vader's true intention was to destroy him, take over as Sith Master, and keep Leia as his Apprentice. 

That scenario, where Vader ruled over the Empire and she was his second-in-command, gave her nightmares, but it was one she knew must come to pass. It was at that time, once Vader assumed the Emperor's place, that Leia would take advantage of Vader's power lust and destroy _him_, leaving the Empire leaderless and hopefully allowing the galaxy to eventually return to the peace and freedom it once had during the golden age of the Old Republic. 

Taking her father's life would not be difficult for her. It would not be the first time she tried to kill him, nor even the fifth. However, it would be the last. Even if doing so cost her life, she was prepared to make that small sacrifice for the good of all. 

For now, though, Leia decided to aim the conversation in a new direction. "What will be my lesson today, my Lord?" she asked.

Inside his mask, Vader pursed his lips. He didn't need the Force to sense Leia's fear of an army of Dark Force warriors. He knew she had sensed his plan for the Empire, but paid it little care. Every day she delved more into the Dark Side, and every day she placed herself more and more under his control. By the time he was ready to put his plan into action, she would be so immersed in the Dark Force that her only desire would be for them to rule all of existence as father and daughter.

But for now, she was still vulnerable to the weakness brought on by compassion. "We will put your new lightsaber to the true test," said Vader. "You will begin learning advanced defense against multiple fully-powered blaster emplacements. A test that would quickly prove fatal for an…_unworthy_ student."

Leia smirked quietly, but confidently. She'd expected a more difficult test, having come so far with the Force. She chose not to argue for now. "I shall perform exceptionally, Father."


	4. Chapter 3: Deluge

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all related indica are owned by Lucasfilm Limited. Star Trek and all related indica are owned by Paramount Pictures. This a fan work done for fun, not profit.

Chapter 3: Deluge

On the bridge of the Imperial Star Destroyer _Assassin_, Captain Jol Marten paced from station to station, impatiently muttering under his breath. A short, pudgy man, Marten wore a perpetually pompous pout, as a man who had once envisioned himself in a high station of life. His nose, miniscule compared to his obese face, always pointed away from the deck.

Marten had been assigned this position only two weeks before. He already hated it. Commander of the fleet patrolling the Kessel system was a dead-end job and was invariably the last chapter in a flag officer's career. One Imperial-class Star Destroyer, a few older Victory-class cruisers, and a dozen Dreadnoughts were his meager armada. There was no possibility of combat. Only the occasional search and seizure of a smuggler's freighter broke the monotony of flying endlessly through the system, trying to catch one of the dozen of illegal spice shipments that left Kessel every week.

As Marten finished his uninterested walk around of the bridge stations, he summoned his second-in-command to the empty view station on the port side of the bridge. His executive officer, Commander Pell Vargas, a man of more average height and build, rolled his eyes when he was sure Marten wouldn't see him. He readied himself to listen to the captain's daily rant.

"I simply cannot believe this, Vargas," started Marten, just loud enough for several other bridge officers to hear. "An Imperial Starfleet Captain of my skills and experience wasting away here in the back end of space. Those clowns on Coruscant have the temerity to stick me, Jol Marten, in such a worthless position, guarding such a backward system? Nobody wants to go to Kessel. It's its own protection. This is such a waste of my intelligence."

Vargas' expression never changed. He so longed to put his captain onto the deck with a single blow, but he had no desire to completely end his own career just yet. Although Marten was incompetent and annoying, he now outranked Vargas, and Vargas had to accept the position he'd been given.

Vargas had once been a captain in Admiral Ozzel's fleet. Vargas felt he had been a very good captain, and he had some friends in high places on Coruscant. However, they couldn't protect him from the court-martial. Vargas had called Ozzel an "ignorant buffoon" when the admiral ignored a critical report on suspected Rebel activities. Ozzel, notorious for his pride, lack of tolerance, and his _own_ friends on Coruscant, did his best to have Vargas drummed out of the Starfleet and sent to Kessel not as a guard, but as an inmate worker. Vargas' friends were able to talk the tribunal down to a rank reduction of Lieutenant Commander and assignment as first officer for the small fleet guarding Kessel. Strangely enough, Vargas had not since heard from his so-called friends.

Instead of voicing his true feelings, Vargas simply said, "Sir, there is always the smuggling problem that must be dealt with. Its continued existence is a black eye for the Empire." Vargas wondered what would happen if he simply drew his blaster and shot off Marten's tongue. The crew would probably applaud him, help him eject Marten out an airlock, and tell Command it had been an accident.

Marten pursed his lips. He didn't expect any different response out of Vargas. His first officer was arrogant, but not stupid enough to question the orders from headquarters. Marten found it annoying and insulting that his subordinate dared to remind him of his duty. However, he chose to let this minor incident slide. 

Marten had very little respect for the man, and desired to waste as little energy as possible worrying over Vargas' opinion of him. Without another word, the round captain waddled back toward the bridge stations, watching, with little interest, the mundane tasks of each of his people.

*

The planetoid Kessel wasn't much to behold. Relatively small and misshapen, it was barely even a planet. However, despite Marten's uneducated statements to the contrary, it contained many rare and valuable minerals and spices, and was thus a hub of both interstellar commerce and interstellar crime. Currently controlled by the Empire, many large syndicates would sell their souls to command the harsh, cold chunk of rock.

One dangerous yet helpful feature of Kessel was its proximity to The Maw. Although the stellar material being pulled into the black holes made a spectacular lightshow in the Kessel sky, the nearness of the ravenous spatial anomalies was a threat to any shipping vessels that dared venture too far from official shipping lanes. It was for this reason that no one had ever suspected, nor desired to investigate, the possibility of a secret base _inside_ the deadly phenomenon. 

Even when the nearby patrol ships and freighters spotted over a dozen Borg cubes suddenly appearing from the Maw's edge, none could have guessed their origin.

The fleet of cube ships approached Kessel at sublight speed, a herd of juggernauts ready to crush anything in their way. In every ship within range, and in the ground-based sensor stations on Kessel itself, scanner techs triple-checked their instruments for malfunction. Some simply froze in fear.

They all shared the same thought: there was no way the readings could be real. It must have been a sensor malfunction. As each scanner technician contacted their communications officer to request confirmation from the other emplacements in the nearby space, they learned the frightening truth.

It was no malfunction. There was indeed a fleet of very large, ominous ships approaching.

If any needed further confirmation, it came suddenly over every communication channel:

"_We are the Borg. You will surrender yourselves to us. We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile._"

The cargo freighters and civilian ships fled quickly, many jumping to lightspeed without even waiting for their navigational computers to plot safe hyperspace jumps. The nearest Imperial patrol ships, two Dreadnoughts and a Victory Star Destroyer, were all that stood between the Borg and the planetoid.

The commanders of the three ships frantically ordered defensive shields and weapons batteries brought online while simultaneously ordering their officers to call the remainder of the fleet for assistance. They had all received a general fleet briefing on these "Borg" creatures, but had never expected to run into them here, of all places. Nor had they expected there to be such a large fleet of the alien vessels, all coming for _them_.

They were given no time to threaten the Borg away. The three cubes at the front of the armada lashed out with their force beams and cutting lasers. The two Dreadnoughts, not as heavily shielded as the Star Destroyer, were immediately cut open, the breaches in their hulls venting atmosphere into the cold, empty space. Crew members that had not been vaporized in the blasts were also ejected out the cracks, flailing wildly and trying to breath the air that didn't exist. 

The next strikes blew out the power plants in the smaller ships. Their lights flickered and died out before they could even get off a single shot. The Dreadnoughts, now without power, began to drift away with the momentum thrust upon them by the Borg weapons. They were dead in space, and any of their crew that had survived the initial attacks would follow shortly.

The Star Destroyer's shields absorbed the first two blasts, but the sheer force threw the ship to starboard. The battleship's shields were holding, but just barely. As the ship's helmsman desperately tried to force the lumbering vessel through evasive maneuvers, the gunnery crews unloaded their turbolaser batteries into the three attacking cubes. 

The laser blasts exploded on contact with the cubes' surfaces, but caused no damage.

The Star Destroyer's captain held on desperately to a console, barking orders at the bridge crew. "Did you get the message out to the fleet?" he shouted to the comm officer.

"Yes sir!" cried the officer. "They're on their way!"

The captain gritted his teeth. The quickness with which the Dreadnoughts were dispatched jarred his nerves, but he forced himself to remain as cool and collected as possible. He had to keep them alive long enough for their backup to arrive.

As the Star Destroyer was battered repeatedly with Borg cutting beams, it began to roll uncontrollably away from the attacking fleet, exposing its dorsal section to the attackers. The Borg took this opportunity to strafe their cutting lasers across the ship's lower docking bays, finally overloading their prey's shield arrays and tearing into the hull. Several of the cutting beams focused their energies on a single spot of the huge dome on the cruiser's underbelly, eventually burning a pinhole into the raised hull. 

That dome protected the Star Destroyer's main solar fusion reactor. Its casing now ruptured, highly energetic plasma began spraying out the fissure. The plasma evaporated the outer hull near the reactor, causing the crack to widen and even more raw plasma to eject itself into space.

The captain ordered all hands to abandon ship, but he made no move to do so himself; his limbs were frozen in shock. He had never even heard of a Star Destroyer being bested in this manner. No one had. No enemy had ever possessed enough firepower to so easily knock out a Star Destroyer's shields, and then directly rupture the shielding on its main reactor.

As the lead cube moved in for the kill, the Star Destroyer's reactor generated an uncontrolled burst of energy, throwing out a shockwave that blasted the dome wide open. The resulting fireball threw high-energy particles out of the fully exposed reactor core directly toward the Borg cube. Wherever the material made contact with the cube, it melted and vaporized metal almost instantaneously. As the cube tried to back off, the cruiser's reactor finally exploded, blasting a hole through the top of the Star Destroyer and obliterating the bridge tower. The expanding plasma gases exploded again, forcefully tearing the aft half of the ship apart like a grenade exploding inside a paper bag.

The damaged cube, reeling from the plasma fireball and the shrapnel that had embedded itself in its hull, limped toward the center of the Borg formation to power down and regenerate itself.

*

The Queen and Tarkin watched the carnage with satisfaction.

"We must make sure, from here on, to keep our distance when Star Destroyer reactors go critical," Tarkin observed. "It will help us conserve energy that could be put to better uses."

"An efficient plan, Locutus," the Queen replied. In less than a millisecond, she spread a command throughout the Collective: _Keep at long range when destroying Victory-class and larger ships. _"However," she continued, not missing a beat, "now that we know how fragile their defenses are against our weapons, it would be even more efficient to assimilate them."

"Yes, my Queen," Tarkin replied. Then, a new plan formed in his mind. "Perhaps we could use them for some…subterfuge?"

The Queen, intrigued by Tarkin's tone, asked, "What do you mean, my One?"

As Tarkin prepared to answer, the Collective sounded an alert. No sooner had the embers from the destroyed Imperial ship faded than just over twelve more ships entered sensor range, closing rapidly. 

*

Captain Marten, on the bridge of the _Assassin_, licked his lips. As soon as he had heard the alert from the destroyed ships, he'd ordered the fleet to assist. 

That, after he had stood frozen in shock for a full ten seconds.

Though the news was a shock to his system, he could not pass up a chance for some action, and to show Coruscant what he was really made of.

He wrung his hands in anticipation. Whoever these invaders were, they'd taste his wrath. He might even get a promotion for his heroism. Gleeful at that thought, he demanded a report on the enemy.

The sensor tech, clearly shaken by the report he was seeing, said, "Sir…I can detect the _Reaper_ and the _Siren_, but they're both completely unpowered. Looks like they were just ripped apart by the aliens!" Marten raised his eyebrow, but did not show any concern for the two Dreadnoughts. Obviously, they couldn't handle the battle without his help.

Vargas, on the other hand, quickly rushed to the sensor station and began reading over the tech's shoulder. His face turned white as he stared at the readout.

"Captain," he said, "the _Defiance_ is nowhere to be found. But from the look of these radiation readings…"

"Well, what?"

"…it looks like her main reactor detonated!"

Marten spun around. "That's impossible. You must be reading it wrong!"

"I pray to the gods I am, sir," said Vargas, "but I don't think so."

This gave Marten some pause. This threat was enough to either quickly destroy a Star Destroyer, or to make it flee in such a hurry that it did not even register on the sensors.

_No_, he decided. He wouldn't let this slip past.

"Order all ships," said Marten, "full attack speed. Take these bastard out at full…"

"_We are the Borg._"

Marten looked around. "What the hell was that?"

The communications officer said, "I don't know, sir. It just came on every channel, and forced the comm system on."

"_Lower your shields and surrender your ships._"

Marten ground his teeth together, mostly to keep them from chattering. "Turn that off!"

"_We will add your biological and technological distinctiveness to our own. Your culture will adapt to service us._"

"I can't sir!"

"_Resistance is futile._"

Marten's officers were now all watching him, and he knew it. He was scared stiff. But he couldn't retreat. The greatest commander in the fleet couldn't give in yet. At least, not before he fired the first shots. "All ships: f-full attack speed. T-throw everything we've got at them!"

The crew, already frightened, were now terrified after hearing their haughty commander's stuttering. Yet though they feared they would not survive this day, they had no choice now. They performed their duties and prayed to whatever gods they worshipped.

As the _Assassin_ and its fellow ships accelerated, Vargas said to the comm officer, "Send a HoloNet message to Command…"

*

The Borg had no fear. Emotion was an inefficient waste of resources. Therefore, they reacted with the utmost precision when they saw the small fleet accelerate toward them. The cubes, minus the damaged one, broke their ordered formation and flew at the fleet like a swarm of giant, angry hornets. They maneuvered with such agility that immediately the Imperial gunnery crews were thrown off-guard.

As the Imperials began evasive maneuvers, their turbolasers fired almost aimlessly at the swift cube ships. The few blasts that met their marks were absorbed by the Borg shielding. A few more blasts struck one of the Dreadnoughts accidentally, overloading its attitude controls and sending it into a slow spiral.

Although much smaller than the Star Destroyers, the Dreadnoughts were less agile and had a much more difficult time tracking their targets. Two of them collided with each other, tearing both ships apart and generating a fireball that severely damaged three other nearby Dreadnoughts. Those three ships were then quickly rendered powerless by Borg force beams.

The Victory-class Star Destroyer _Vengeance_ banked to its starboard to avoid colliding with the dead starships and began to give chase to the nearest Borg cube. The cube initially moved away from the _Vengeance_, but then slowed, stopped, and headed back _toward_ the Star Destroyer. Because of the perfectly symmetrical construction of the cube ship, it did not need to turn around.

The captain of the _Vengeance_ quickly ordered for evasive maneuvers, even though he knew that they would not have enough time at their current speed to avoid flying right through the Borg ship. He watched the cube ship grow larger in the front viewer, before being blinded by a bright blue beam.

The Borg fired their tractor beam at top intensity, striking out at the _Vengeance_. The beam entirely engulfed the triangular vessel, violently wrenched it sideways, and forced it to move backward while its engines were on full.

The sudden stress instantly knocked out the Star Destroyer's engines, causing them to fizzle out as their emergency venting systems kicked in. The center engine began to leak extra plasma reactant from a ruptured fuel conduit.

Inside the _Vengeance_, many of the crew had been killed when the sudden jolt overloaded the inertial dampers. They had been sent flying into the hard metal ceiling at high speed, crushing bones and vital organs. Those that had thoughtfully strapped themselves into their blast chairs survived, but with varying degrees of injury. They could only watch as the not so fortunate fell from the ceiling, piece by piece. Blood had splattered everywhere, and made every populated compartment of the ship into a slaughterhouse.

Seconds later, the Borg tractor beam released them. Emergency power kicked in and reactivated the inertial damping fields, making it safe for the survivors to return to their posts.

They all quickly jumped out of their chairs, many and heading for the nearest escape pods. A few dozen pods made it away before the Borg again struck the Star Destroyer, this time with their force beam.

The beam crushed the already battered ship and ruptured its reactor core. The Borg ship quickly changed course to avoid the resulting fireball, not making the same mistake its predecessor had.

The shockwave from the explosion obliterated several of the escape pods and propelled most of the others away at high speed. The pods, without enough fuel to stop their rapid egress, began their eternal journey into the oblivion of deep space. Some were propelled into The Maw, whose intense gravity grabbed them and pulled them in for a firsthand view of the destructive power of a black hole.

Captain Marten of the _Assassin_ watched the melee in horror, as his fleet was rapidly converted into millions of tons of scrap metal. Even as his own ship was bombarded by the Borg, he simply stood and stared as his command was decimated.

Vargas, on the other hand, was barking battle orders. He knew from day one that the captain would likely freeze under the pressure of combat, and he had no desire to die without fighting.

Marten started shaking. From behind him, it may have looked like tremors of rage. In reality, Marten was on the verge of a breakdown.

"Get us out of here!" he ordered.

Vargas stood up and said, "Sir! We can't leave Kessel unprotected! We have to hold out until Lord Vader's reinforcements arrive!"

Marten spun around just as a Borg plasma charge detonated against their bridge shields. He stumbled to the floor, but got back up on his hands and knees and said, "You…you c-called Vader?"

"We have to…"

"_No!_" shouted Marten. "We have to survive! And when Vader sees what's happened, if the Borg haven't killed me, _he_ certainly will!"

Then, to the helmsman, "Jump to hyperspace! Any direction, just get us out of here!"

The helmsman, only too eager to both follow orders and save his own skin, set a quick course away from the battle and threw the hyperdrive lever.

The _Assassin_ disappeared in a flash of pseudomotion just as two deadly Borg lasers intersected on its previous position.

Inside the bridge, the crew saw as the stars in the forward viewer stretched toward them, wavered, and shrunk back down to stars. A piercing whine emitted from the deck, and was suddenly silenced with a *clunk*. 

The _Assassin_'s three main engines flickered, flashed brightly as if backfiring, and then winked out. The internal comm. screen came to life, showing an image of fiery hell and panicked, dying crewmen. The speakers crackled, "Captain, the engi…oaded! Maj…actor leak! Ve…dying down here!"

Vargas wasted no time taking command of the situation. "Initiate reactor shutdown. Seal the compartments surrounding the leak and vent into space to put out the plasma fires." He turned to his ashen-faced captain. "Anyone in those areas is already dead."

Marten looked down, inhaled deeply, and stood. "Take care of the recovery and repair efforts, Mr. Vargas. I'll be planning our strategy."

Vargas, flustered, glared at his captain as the pudgy man marched out of the bridge. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood. Then, he began giving orders to initiate emergency repairs.

Marten strode into his office, just outside the bridge. He sealed the pneumatic door behind him, took his officer's cap off his head, and retched into it.

*

The Borg cubes dispatched the remainder of the fleet by either destruction or infiltration, and then immediately turned their attention to the Kessel planetoid. Now completely defenseless, the planet could be effortlessly assimilated.

The first drones that beamed down to the surface met strong resistance from the stormtroopers and soldiers guarding the nearby facilities. Apparently, they had been informed of the Borg's presence and their transporter technology. However, their weapons were no different than those the Borg had encountered on board the Death Star; they had long since adapted.

The troopers watched in amazement as their blaster bolts were easily absorbed by the creatures. As the drones marched closer to the troopers, the troopers swarmed against them them head-on. Looking much like a battle between two armies of yore, the troopers charged the drones and struck them with the butts of their rifles and any other hand weapon they had available. 

The drones, however, shrugged off the troopers' blows and struck back fiercely. Many of them used their bionic arms to savagely crush the troopers' armor, instantly killing the humans inside. Others grabbed the defenders and impaled their throats with their assimilation tubules. The tubules easily pierced the white durasteel armor and sunk themselves into the soft flesh underneath. These troopers, partially paralyzed by the sedative carrying the Borg nanoprobes, fell to the ground. They spend their last few moments of consciousness watching Borg drones walk over and around them, and trying unsuccessfully to pick up their blasters to continue the fight.

The assimilation of the first troopers took only about a minute. Although only possessing the bare essentials for a drone, they were under Collective control and already had been given augmented strength. Each one stood up and marched with their fellow drones toward the facility being guarded by the dwindling number of troopers.

Some of the troopers saw their compatriots attacking them now on the side of the enemy, and were shocked. They'd heard some reports about what the Borg did, but this was far too much for them to bear. Many of them began firing wildly into the swarm of drones. Most of their blast bolts struck the normal drones and were easily absorbed by their shields. Some, however, struck the newly assimilated stormtroopers. The armor of each trooper-drones that was struck exploded with a shower of sparks, and the assimilated troopers fell dead to the ground.

Other trooper-drones raised their blasters and returned fire. They fired intense volleys at the defending troopers, killing many of them, and forcing the rest to retreat into the compound behind them. The drones followed them inside, marching relentlessly toward their goal.

*

The Queen and Tarkin beamed as they oversaw their drones assimilate thousands of Kessel inhabitants, and all their technology, over a matter of a few standard days. All resistance was easily crushed. 

The newly captured drones built the assimilation chambers where they would be fitted with the complete array of drone equipment. The older drones immediately began modifying the existing structures and mines for their use, and erected environmental control towers to convert the planet's thin atmosphere into one that was more efficient for Borg activity, with higher concentrations of carbon dioxide, methane, and fluorine, to a temperature of 39.6 degrees centigrade.

The Queen credited part of the victory to Tarkin's tactical genius, which had taught the Collective more efficient ways to fight. No longer would they simply roll over the opposition like a boulder, accepting any number of lost drones. Tarkin's skill would lead them to destroy or capture their opposition with the minimum of wasted energy and equipment.

Several of the cubes flew out to the other planets in the system, ordered to create mining platforms on them to harvest resources to build even more Borg ships. The Borg had spread across the Kessel system within days, and soon they would spread across the galaxy.

The Borg would prevail.


	5. Intermission: The Last of the Jedi

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all related indica are owned by Lucasfilm Limited. Star Trek and all related indica are owned by Paramount Pictures. This a fan work done for fun, not profit.

Intermission: The Last Of The Jedi

Dagobah.

A planet so full of life, yet with no indigenous technology, nor any presence of the Empire. They had ignored the Dagobah system, for reasons known only to one of the living planet's inhabitants. For that matter, only one of the inhabitants cared.

That solitude, however, was about to be broken. A single ship appeared out of hyperspace very near to the green and brown swamp planet. An old, battered freighter, it looked like the head of some exotic insect: circular and flat with two mandibles extending from the front of the craft, and a single "eye" on the ship's starboard side.

The _Millennium Falcon_, piloted by Han Solo and Chewbacca, was as infamous in the smuggling world as its pilots. It was a Corellian YT-1300 transport, endlessly modified and upgraded by its various owners over the decades. It sported the fastest known hyperdrive engine in the galaxy, an illegal military-grade sensor dish, and enough built-in redundancies that it could outfly any other freighter even if half the ship were offline.

Much to Solo's lament, the _Falcon_ often flew in that state. Solo, a Corellian, had been a smuggler for many years after being drummed out of the Imperial Starfleet. His co-pilot and partner, Chewbacca, was a 400-year-old Wookie from Kashyyyk whom Solo had freed from Imperial bondage. He owed a life debt to the Corellian, and they were fast friends.

Solo looked out the front viewport of the _Falcon_'s cockpit. "That must be it, Chewie. Dagobah. Not on any of the charts."

Chewie grunted an agreement in his native language, and barked a question.

"I don't know. If this Yoda guy they're looking for is really that powerful, that'd probably explain why he was able to keep it hidden."

Chewie shook his head and muttered a response.

"Yeah," said Solo. "Gives me the creeps too."

Solo thumbed the intercom mike. "Okay guys, we're here and sure enough, there's a planet in front of us. You sure this is the place?"

"We'll be there momentarily," came the reply.

"Just leave the damn 'droids down there," muttered Solo after switching off the mike. Chewie grunted in agreement.

Seconds later, the cockpit hatch opened and in walked two men. One was quite old, with gray hair and a beard. His soft baggy eyes betrayed his immense wisdom and years of experience. His look of wisdom was enhanced by the humble, dark brown cloak he wore over a simple farmer's jumpsuit.

The other was young, in his early twenties. He had a thick mop of blonde hair and a wide, curious look in his eyes. He wore tan Alliance fatigues with no rank or service insignia on them.

Chewie turned to the new arrivals and grunted a question.

"Yes," replied the old man, "that's our destination."

The old man sat in the seat behind Solo and stroked his beard thoughtfully. The younger sat next to him behind Chewbacca.

The older man had once gone by the name Obi Wan Kenobi. He was a Jedi Master, and one of the few Jedi to survive the Great Jedi Purge decades earlier. He had settled on the remote desert planet of Tatooine, watching over his current apprentice, Luke Skywalker. Luke, the son of the powerful Jedi Anakin Skywalker, whom Kenobi had also once trained, had been eager to follow in his father's footsteps.

They had hired Solo and Chewie to take them to Alderaan and deliver a droid containing detailed plans of the Imperial superweapon, the Death Star. When they arrived at the Alderaan system, however, they found nothing but debris. Kenobi had concluded that the Empire had destroyed Alderaan, though at the time he didn't know how.

They spent the next few weeks searching for Rebellion sympathizers across the outskirts of the Empire, intending to hand over the plans to them. During that time, in order to convince Solo to help them, Skywalker and Kenobi had managed to earn enough money for Solo to pay off his debts, with interest. Solo and Chewie, on the other hand, had begun to genuinely respect the duo.

It was about that time they witnessed, firsthand, the destructive power of the Empire's ultimate weapon: they narrowly escaped the destruction of the planet Raltiir. When Solo saw just how far the Empire had gone to secure its power, he could no longer sit on the sidelines. He opted to fight the Empire as part of the Alliance, and Chewbacca, whom Solo had often considered to be his conscience, was more than happy to follow him. Shortly after they found the Rebels in the Yavin system, Solo and Chewie flew with Luke in the attack against the Death Star. In that critical battle Luke fired the two shots that, as Solo put it, were "heard 'round the galaxy". The weapon that had killed billions of people between Alderaan and Raltiir was blasted into oblivion when Luke's torpedoes destabilized and erupted its power core.

After that victory the Rebellion began to gain support across the galaxy. Solo stayed long enough to help them relocate to their new base on Hoth before leaving to pay off his debts once and for all. He'd decided that, though he'd begun to share their ideals, he would do the Rebellion little good if he were constantly being chased by bounty hunters at the same time as they fled the Empire's wrath. Once he'd paid off Jabba, he intended to return to the Rebellion and help them rally forces across the galaxy to bring an end to the Emperor's "New Order".

Luke had been training under Kenobi for nearly a year, and was becoming quite adept as a Jedi Padawan. However, Kenobi knew from experience that his ability to train Luke was limited, and decided to take his apprentice to Yoda, the ancient Jedi Master that had been his own instructor almost a lifetime ago. Solo's decision to leave was a fortunate coincidence, as he was able to convince the ex-smuggler to make a side trip and drop the two of them at Yoda's adopted home, the swamp planet of Dagobah. Solo had accepted, calling it "just like old times".

Now that they'd arrived, however, Solo couldn't help but wish he'd left before they could ask. He turned to Kenobi and said, "I'm not picking up any landing markers. Where are we supposed to put down?"

Kenobi closed his eyes and concentrated for a second. Then, he said, "Go for coordinates 38.457, 112.9208. Be careful, though. You'll probably run into some…interference."

The ship jolted suddenly as it neared their destination. The sensor readouts scrambled, and winked out. "Thanks for the warning, old man," Solo growled. Although he and Kenobi had become friends out of mutual respect, he still occasionally found himself annoyed at Kenobi's calm, cavalier attitude.

"Don't know how I let you talk me into this." Solo flipped a few switches on his scope, and said, "Chewie, cut in the auxiliary sensors."

Chewie barked an affirmative. He flipped a few switches on the auxiliary scope. It came to life for a second and then winked out again.

Solo smacked his hand against it, and it lit up once more.

"I thought you were going to fix that," he scolded.

Chewie shook his head and grumbled a reply.

"Oh, that's right," Solo replied sheepishly. "Well, I got busy. I'll look at it before we take off again."

Chewie growled under his breath, shook his head, and began plotting the landing coordinates. Luke smiled and shook his own head. Chewie and Han were quite a pair. Even though Chewie owed his life to Han, the Wookiee didn't have any qualms about letting Han know how he felt.

Luke then craned his neck to look over the busy Wookiee's shoulder. "Ben, are you sure this is the right place?"

Obi Wan nodded dreamily. "Ever since the forced extinction of the Jedi Order, Master Yoda prefers security." His eyes then focused on Luke, and he gave a small, soothing smile. "Relax, Luke. Listen to the Force, and stretch out with your feelings. We will be all right."

"Ok, I see it," Solo interjected. "Hang on, fellas. We're getting a lot of hull ionization. This might be a little bumpy." The _Falcon_ bucked slightly, but Han and Chewie's expert hands kept her as steady as possible. Moments later, they set down on the soft ground.

Before switching the engines to standby, Solo observed, "Hey, Ben, this ground seems a bit unsteady. You sure it'll hold up?"

Kenobi nodded slightly and said, "Trust me, it will."

"The last time you said 'trust me', we ended up in that stormtrooper training facility on Kamino," said Solo.

"I don't see any stormtroopers here, do you?"

Chewie chuckled. Han just shook his head and said, "Crazy old coot."

Luke and Obi Wan stood up and left the cockpit as Solo and Chewie made sure the ship's engines were ready to lift off at a moment's notice. Despite Kenobi's insistence, he wanted to make sure they could lift off quickly in case the ground gave way.

The Jedi and his apprentice made their way to the hatch and disembarked. Kenobi looked around almost lazily, taking in the air and the sensation of all the life around him. Luke, on the other hand, intently scanned the area with his eyes and with the Force.

"I don't sense anyone nearby. Are you sure this is where we're supposed to meet Yoda?"

"Yoda comes and goes as he pleases, Luke," said Obi Wan. "But I am confident we will meet him soon."

Han and Chewie came down the ramp moments later. Han's hand rested on his blaster, and Chewie held his bowcaster at the ready. "Well," Han said, "We're here, wherever 'here' is. Now what?"

"Now," said Obi Wan, "we go in search of Yoda. I'm sure he's not far."

Han and Chewie looked at each other. "You don't _know_ where he is?"

"Don't worry, Han," said Kenobi in his grandfatherly manner, "You won't be delayed too long." He started walking into the forest, and Luke, Han, and Chewie closely followed.

"Yeah, but I'm worried about you guys, too. Chewie and me don't want to leave you with nothing but what's in your survival kits."

Chewbacca grunted an agreement.

Just then, there was a shouting from the landing ramp of the _Falcon_, coupled with a string of electronic beeps. "I simply can_not_ abide this kind of space flight! If I never fly again, it will be too soon!"

A golden, humanoid robot trod down the ramp, followed closely behind by a short, cylindrical machine on three wide, pyramid-shaped feet. The shorter robot replied with an indignant series of tweets and whistles.

"I am not whining! I simply stated…"

Chewbacca roared at the 'droid, who immediately stopped talking. C-3PO came to a halt when he stepped on the soft ground, and R2-D2 stopped right next to him.

"Thanks," Han muttered to Chewie. "Wonder if Luke'd mind too much if I shot Goldenrod's vocoder off."

Ignoring Han's idle threat, Luke said, "He's close, I think. I can feel something..." He paused for a pair of beats.

"And what feel you?"

Luke, Han, and Chewie quickly spun around. As Threepio shrieked and Artoo gave a surprised whoop, Han and Chewie instantaneously drew their weapons and trained them on the newcomer. Luke put his hand on his lightsaber, but stopped himself just short from drawing and igniting it. Obi Wan, on the other hand, turned casually and observed their new friend. No one noticed the nostalgic and slightly amused look on his face.

"…like we're being watched," finished Luke, cautiously.

"Away put your weapons! I mean you no harm," came the high-pitched, gravely voice. The little creature, having instinctively shielded himself with his arms, slowly came out of hiding. He was very short, about one meter in height. A gray-skinned, elfish-looking alien, he had long, pointed ears sticking out the sides of his squashed-looking head. He wore a tattered robe and carried a worn walking stick.

"I am wondering," he continued, "why are you here?"

"We're looking for someone," Luke answered carefully. He felt something strange about the little creature, as if it were not all that it seemed. He couldn't place it, though.

"Looking? Found someone you have, I would say. Hmm?"

Luke chuckled slightly, despite himself. The creature certainly had a charm, if a strange one. Han and Chewie, on the other hand, kept their weapons trained on the creature and looked to Luke and Obi Wan for their next move.

Obi Wan stepped forward, waving Han and Chewie off. "We are looking for the one named Yoda."

As Solo and Chewbacca slowly holstered their weapons, the creature looked at the old man thoughtfully, yet with another, slightly hidden emotion. "Yoda you say? Long has it been since I have seen him. But know where he is I do. Help you I can."

Luke sighed impatiently. "Look, I'm sure you'd like to help us, but…" He was interrupted by a hand placed on his shoulder. He looked to Obi Wan, who shook his head slightly.

"We don't know our way around here, but I'm sure he does. It's almost always a good idea to accept help that is offered in good faith." Then, to the creature, "We would be greatly appreciative of your help, but unfortunately, we don't have much to offer in return."

"Then join me for dinner you must," the creature replied. "Not often do I have guests. Then take you to Yoda, I will. But first, must eat. Come." He motioned for them to follow as he got up and started walking deeper into the forest.

"Ben," muttered Han, "You sure it's such a good idea to follow somebody who was able to sneak up on us like that? Chewie and me have a pretty good sense between us, and we didn't even notice him."

Obi Wan motioned for them to follow. "It is true that this fellow is not all that he seems, but I sense no danger at all. Aside from some of the local fauna, this is probably the safest planet in the galaxy for us." He followed the creature, with Luke close behind.

Chewie looked around and growled nervously.

"Yeah, me too," said Han. "Just keep your eyes open. I like the old man, too, but sometimes I think he gets a little cocky."

Chewie nodded in agreement.

"Uh, excuse me, sir," came Threepio's voice from behind. "I think it might be better…"

"Stay with the ship, you two," Han ordered. "Make sure no animals or insects get inside, or I'll have the two of you going around inside with flyswatters and digh nets."

"Well, then…" Threepio replied nervously, "I believe we shall go back inside the ship."

VVVV

They arrived at the little creature's home, a mud hut that was too short for the average human to stand up inside. For Chewbacca, it was literally impossible. He opted to stay outside and watch from a window.

"Fortunate you are," said the creature, "expecting company I was. Much food have I." He ladled some of a thick, green, lumpy liquid from a cauldron into several bowls and handed them out to the humans. Han passed a bowl and spoon to Chewie through the window. He took a bite of his own, and was surprised by the sharp taste. It tasted a lot like the root stew Chewie's sister had made for them the last time they'd visited Kashyyyk.

Chewie thoroughly enjoyed the taste of the stew and purred approvingly.

"Thank you," said the creature, "not often do I have guests for dinner."

Luke stirred the stew slightly, disapprovingly. He'd eaten some not-so-palatable things before, mostly out of his ration pack, but this looked downright disgusting. He looked over at Ben, who took a spoonful into his mouth and savored it. He looked like he'd had it long before, and had anticipated this moment for some time.

"Eat, eat," said the creature when he saw Luke had not yet tasted the stew.

Luke took a small spoonful and, reluctantly, placed it in his mouth. He winced at the strong taste, doing his best to avoid spitting it out. It tasted to him like something used only for medicinal purposes. However, not wanting to insult their host, he ate more. To his surprise, it started tasting better with each mouthful. Slightly better.

"Where is Yoda?" asked Luke. "Will it take us long to get there?"

"Not far," said their host, as he gave himself a generous serving of the stew. "Yoda not far. Patience. Soon, you will be with him.

"Tell me," the creature then asked, with a mouthful of stew, "Why wish you to find Yoda, hmm?" It eyed Han with what he assumed was a bemused expression.

Han held up a hand and said, "Don't look at me and Chewie. We're just their ride."

Obi Wan swallowed his spoonful of stew and said, "This young man is training to be a Jedi. I have taught him for the past year, and he has learned much. However, there is much more Yoda can teach him that I cannot."

"And believe you that Yoda wishes to train this one?" the creature asked.

Luke furrowed his brow, unsure if he should be insulted. Obi Wan, sensing Luke's emotion, said, "That is my hope, and I intend to convince him." He smiled wryly at the creature.

The creature looked at Luke, almost examining him. "Hmm, yes. Follow in the footsteps of his father, he wishes? Powerful Jedi was he. Powerful Jedi."

Luke stared at the creature quizzically. "Wait a second. How can you know my father? You don't even know who I…"

Luke stopped. He examined the creature as closely as the creature examined him. "You're Yoda, aren't you?"

The creature, immediately dropping all amused pretense, nodded. "Felt it you did, from the moment we met. Yet not confident in your feelings are you, or known it immediately you would have."

Yoda turned to Obi Wan. "Well you have done in training this one, Obi Wan. Had you more time, more confidence in the Force he would have learned. But well you did in bringing him to me. Together we can ready him for the difficult destiny that lies ahead of him."

Luke watched the small Jedi Master intently. He was not at all what he had expected of a great warrior. He was, frankly, surprised that such a small one could hold so much power.

Yoda sensed his surprise, and said, "One thing must you take to heart, young one, is that size and shape matter not, when it comes to the Force. But learn you will. Trained many Jedi, I have. Much potential have you, but anger you still feel. Anger over your father's death at the hand of Darth Vader. Anger over your aunt and uncle's death at the hands of the Empire. Hmm?"

Luke looked into the large, suddenly wizened eyes. He instinctively turned away, feeling some shame at the truth of Yoda's words.

"Become a Jedi you may, but first learn to dissolve your anger, you must."

Luke nodded. He still did feel anger over Vader's taking of his entire family, and wasn't sure right now if he could face Vader, or one like him, without giving in to his rage.

"I won't fail you, Master," said Luke, looking up again. "I'm not afraid."

Yoda's ears perked up when he heard this. "Hmm? You will be, young one. You will be."

VVVV

Han brought down Luke's gear bag and said, "That's everything. You sure you'll be all right?"

Luke nodded, and Obi Wan said, "Yes, we will be fine. Thank you for bringing us here. We are in your debt."

Han shook his head. "That's what got us in all this mess to begin with, isn't it?" He gave his signature half-smile. "Don't worry about it. But remember, when you need another lift, just give us a call." He reached out and shook Luke and Obi Wan's hands.

"You take good care of them," Han said to Yoda. "We've been through a lot together."

"Worry not, Captain Solo," replied Yoda. "In good hands, they are."

Chewie came down the Falcon's ramp and told Han that the ship was ready for take off. Then, he strode up to Luke and engulfed him in a giant hug. Luke laughed and said, "Okay, okay. You take good care of that pirate, you hear? Don't let him get you both blown to pieces, okay?"

Chewie gave an affirmative, and said something else in the Wookiee language. Luke, who was finally starting to understand his language, got the message of friendship loud and clear.

Artoo whistled at the pair. Han gave a half-wave and said, "See you around, Artoo. Don't go letting Goldenrod get eaten or anything."

Artoo gave an electronic chuckle, to which Threepio replied, "Oh, really! I'm just not sure what all this moisture will do to my systems! I'm an interpreter, not a marine biologist."

"You can come with us if you want to," Han said, his arms crossed.

"I…I…" He turned from Solo to Luke, unsure what he should answer. Luke was his Master, but...

Chewbacca grumbled a snide remark. Threepio gasped and said, "What do you mean, 'switched off and locked in the hold'?"

"Take it or leave it, Threepio," Han replied.

"I think I'll stay with Masters Luke and Obi Wan," Threepio said.

With a chuckle, Chewie went to Obi Wan and granted him farewell. Obi Wan replied with a traditional Wookiee farewell, spoken in the Wookiee language. Chewie nodded, and headed back into the ship.

"Well," said Han, "we'll see you guys later. I'll give General Rieekan your regards when we get back to Hoth." Luke and Obi Wan waved to Han as he got back up the ramp and closed the hatch. Moments later, the large ship lifted off and flew upward, away from the planet.

After the _Falcon_ was out of sight, Obi Wan and Luke turned to Yoda. Yoda said to Luke, "See your friends again, you will. Intertwined are your destinies. But first, become a Jedi you will."


	6. Chapter 4: Fight or Flight

Disclaimer: Star Wars and all related characters are the property of 20th Century Fox and Lucasfilm. Star Trek and all related characters are the property of Paramount Pictures. In other words, neither belongs to me.

Chapter 4: Again, Flight Over Fight

Vargas paced about the darkened bridge of the _Assassin_, going over his decision process in his head one more time. He knew it must be done. For their own survival, and the command crew's honor, he had to do it.

Their auxiliary power had failed about an hour earlier, another victim of the multiple reactor leaks throughout the ship. They were currently on emergency batteries, and to conserve power, the lights had been automatically lowered by Engineering.

_We surrendered_, thought Vargas. _They damaged us, and we left the rest of our fleet to be destroyed. We surrendered Kessel. No,_ he _surrendered Kessel_, he corrected himself. _We'll be lucky to walk away from this with our _heads_, much less any sort of career. _That_ is my justification._

"Commander," called the engineering tech, breaking the officer's train of thought. Vargas strode over to the Engineering station and nodded to the tech. "Sir, auxiliary power has been restored. Engineering says it should now remain active, and we can switch from the batteries."

Vargas nodded and said, "Do it."

The tech flipped a few switches, sending the commander's orders to the Engineering crew. A few seconds later the lights brightened, returning the bridge to its normal illumination level.

Vargas gave a short sigh of relief, and then pulled another breath sharply into his chest. This was the good news, and he knew the bad would be coming very shortly.

"Sir," said the tech, "all main reactor leaks into internal compartments have been patched, but there is still a power drain. Most likely it's coming from the hyperdrive. Engineering will be able to confirm this once they clear the radiation from the engine compartments, but they report that the hyperdrive motivator has most likely been damaged beyond repair, along with the reactant injectors and the subspace flux conduits.

"They suspect one of the engines is venting drive fuel, which would account for our attitude control difficulties. We can stop the leak, but we will not be able to restore the main engines without docking at a space station."

He turned back to his station for a moment, as if double-checking something. "However," he continued, "they do expect to have the long-range communications array operational again within the hour, though not at full power. They recommend we then signal for a tow, since even at full sublight, it will take us two thousand three hundred sixty-five years to reach the nearest Imperial world…after Kessel, that is."

"Very well," replied Vargas unemotionally. That was a clarification he hardly needed. "Remind Engineering that we need to get our defensive shields operational, as well as any turbolaser and torpedo arrays that will still fire. If the Borg decide to come looking for us, I don't want to make us an easy target."

With that, Vargas marched toward the aft of the bridge. He watched all the officers and enlisted men working diligently to restore their ship to as much working order as possible. With few exceptions, they had dealt with the violent and messy deaths of so many of their shipmates in stride, and with a sense of duty. He felt pride for those under his command, and he made sure they saw it in his face.

Yet the most important officer on the ship had not been seen by anyone since their hyperdrive failed, dropping them abruptly into realspace. Captain Marten had locked himself in his office and stayed there, without as much as a call over the intercom. Not that the intercom in his office was working anyway…

It was time. Vargas narrowed his eyes and marched up to Marten's office door. The black-suited security guard said, "Sir, the captain ordered no interruptions."

Vargas glared at the guard, his cold eyes exerting absolute authority. "The captain nearly killed us all, has surrendered our garrison through his cowardice, and has failed to lead in the effort to preserve all our lives. He will answer to the crew for this, and more importantly, he will answer to the Emperor. _Open the door_."

The guard hesitated for a moment. He gulped quietly and adjusted his grip on his blaster rifle. Finally, he turned around halfway and typed in the lock bypass code for the office door.

"See to it that we are not disturbed. I will be escorting Captain Marten out here within five minutes." The guard nodded slowly as Vargas entered the office.

As the door closed behind him, the first thing Vargas sensed was the strong smell of vomit. He looked down and saw greenish spots on the floor, where some had obviously fallen and was drying. He next saw his captain, slumped over in his chair, his face resting on his desk.

With the sound of Vargas' footsteps on the floor, Marten raised his head. His eyes were very bloodshot and his face flushed and sweaty, obviously from all the retching he had done in the past hour and a half.

"What the hell do you want?" growled Marten through dry, sticky lips. His voice was raspy and low, almost a weak growl.

"You will surrender command of the _Assassin_ to me," said Vargas, his voice cold and steady. "Right now, you will come with me to the bridge and make the announcement to the entire ship. While your crewmen have died and your ship blasted apart around you, you have retreated and left them all to fend for themselves. You are a coward and not even worthy to command a garbage scow."

Marten stared at Vargas as a man suddenly woken up to see a blaster to his face. He knew his first officer had little respect for him, but he never thought the man would commit outright _mutiny_. "What…how _dare_ you…!"

"Spare me the dramatics, you pitiful excuse for an officer. You ordered your ship to flee the planet under your guard, as other ships in your own fleet were destroyed. The Borg never even made a demand of you to surrender Kessel. You didn't even give your fleet orders to retreat, but instead turned tail and scurried away like some Nar Shaddaa barfly.

"I say again, _Captain_," continued Vargas, "you will surrender command of this ship to me. Otherwise, I will have you arrested as unfit for duty, and as a traitor to the Empire. By the time you have a chance to argue your case, your so-called reputation will be buried in kilometers of Rancor manure. You'll be fortunate if the Emperor leaves your body intact."

"No! Never!" shouted Marten. With a flash of speed no rational person could have predicted in the broken man, Marten whipped a blaster out a compartment in his desk, leapt to his feet, and pointed the weapon at Vargas. "I'll kill you, you mutinous cur! Then I'll tell the Emperor this was all your fault!"

Vargas crossed his arms and glared at Marten. "Don't bother. I took the liberty of disabling it long ago, and making sure it stayed that way. And before you try them," he continued, casting a glance to the desktop controls that were inches from Marten's fingers, "I've ensured that your intercom and recording devices have been disabled. There's not enough power to run them, after all." Those last words almost drawled out of his mouth, as if he were trying to convert his anger into some kind of intense humor. "The words we speak in here will never fall on anyone else's ears."

Marten, his hand shaking, pulled the trigger on his blaster. He expected to hear the sharp sting of a blaster bolt pierce the air, and to see a hole burn into his first officer's body. Instead, he only heard the empty click of the trigger switch. Vargas did not flinch. Snarling, Marten squeezed the trigger several more times in quick succession, praying that somehow the gun would get the idea and start shooting. When it was plain that his weapon was dead, he dropped his hand to his side, letting his blaster slip out of his grip and onto the floor, where it landed with a clatter.

He reared back toward his chair, as if to physically attack Vargas. He had a strong desire to rip out the other man's larynx, but as Vargas had suddenly produced a blaster pointed at his head, Marten held himself back. If there were any motto Marten had clung to throughout his dubious career, it was that there was no shame in giving up, if only to live and fight another day. The heavyset man leaned on his desk, the muscles in his face going slack with resignation. The look of defeat on his face was more than satisfying to Vargas.

"You've planned this all along, haven't you? You filthy nerf-herder. You opportunistic piece of bantha…" 

"Now, now, Captain," interrupted Vargas, speaking to Marten as he would a young child, "behave yourself. At the moment, you are still an Imperial officer. Remember, _you_ were the one who ordered our retreat. _You_ were the one who fled to his own office and chose to abdicate his command when his crew needed him the most.

"You now have an opportunity to save some face, and possibly survive long enough to regret your actions as an old man. You will come with me onto the bridge, and inform the crew you are officially relinquishing command to me in order to accept full blame for this incident and spare the crew any responsibility. You will then allow yourself to be escorted to the brig, where you will wait until Vader's fleet arrives. Then, _if_ you can convince Lord Vader to remit you to military custody, you can look forward to a long, if miserable life. I know that a coward like you would choose survival over dying with honor."

Marten's bloodshot, tear-strained eyes turned up toward his first officer. Those eyes, wild in their sockets, reflected both Marten's fear for his fate and his intense hatred for Vargas. But, as much as he detested it, he had to agree with Vargas on one thing: he did want to survive, even if just a little longer. That was something he could not do with a hole burned through the center of his chest.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Marten's office door opened, startling the guard. It had only been about four minutes since he let Vargas enter. Now, Captain Marten, his shoulders slumped forward and gait dragging, exited to the bridge. He was followed by Commander Vargas, whose upturned nose and plasteel-stiff back were clear indicators of who had come out of the meeting with the advantage.

Marten strode to the center of the bridge as nearly all the bridge crew eyed him. He straightened up and stood rigidly, except for his left knee, which wobbled slightly. Vargas stood a few feet away from him, his hands clasped behind his back, and his blaster neatly returned to the waist holster just underneath his uniform jacket.

"Activate intraship communications," ordered Marten to the communications officer. His voice was barely a whisper and was slightly slurred, as if the man had been drinking. 

A short attention whistle sounded throughout the ship. 

"Attention crew of the _Assassin_, this is Captain Marten."

Marten's voice boomed throughout the ship, and the bridge crew could hear it reverberate through the deck plates. Marten, at this moment, wished that the intercom system had been another casualty of battle. Instead, outside of the sabotaged link in his office, it appeared to be one of the few things working properly. 

"I…" his throat closed for a second. He swallowed, forcing it back open. "I…accept full responsibility for our losses and officially surrender command of the _Assassin_ to Lieutenant Commander Vargas, effective immediately. Furthermore, I am…" his voice cracked again, and he one again felt the urge to vomit on the deck. It mattered not that he had nothing left but dry heaves. He forced the rest out: "…surrendering _myself_ into custody pending a court-martial. That is all."

While his words were met with deathly silence, the crew knew that there would most likely not be any court martial. Once Vader found out what had happened and was within range, he would hold someone responsible. And as Vader was known to crush the life out of good officers who made mistakes, they could only imagine what kind of fate he reserved for incompetent officers who committed egregious failures. For all the stories they'd been told of the Emperor's vicious right-hand man, the very thought of Vader was enough to chill them to the bone. 

Vargas signaled the security guards, and they briskly stepped forward to seize the stout captain. "Captain Marten, I accept full command of the _Assassin_, and under Regulation 52391A-43HF, I place you under arrest and temporarily suspend your rank of Captain. You will remain in custody to face judgment by either an Imperial tribunal or the Fleet Commander." He didn't need to specify, but everyone already knew who that was. "Take him away."

The guards led Marten off the bridge and into the aft corridor. Vargas, now acting Captain of the _Assassin_, told the communications officer, "I will record a looping message for us to transmit. Once external communications are re-established, encode it and send it passively via HoloNet. Hopefully that will alert our fleet without telling the Borg where we are."

With that, Vargas again began making the rounds of the bridge stations, getting status updates as his bridge crew worked diligently to repair as much as they could of their ship. At the same time, he began wording his distress call in his head. If Vader were indeed the first responder, he would need one that would be the least likely to raise the Dark Lord's ire.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Vader stood in the turbo elevator, brooding. Despite her "advanced" age, by the pitiful Jedi thinking, Leia was learning to control the Force even more quickly than he himself had in his youth; she had gone from knowing nothing of her power to matching Vader's abilities as an advanced padawan in a matter of a few years. While this gave him a sense of pride, it was also cause for concern.

He had planned to eliminate the Emperor and take his place as ruler of the Galaxy, with Leia as his right hand. Such was the way of the Sith, for generations before him. However, he was concerned that her potential would become greater than his own too quickly, and that Leia would use it against him before she was ready to lead the Empire. While he knew she was not foolish, he also knew that filial piety was not a quality that existed with the Sith. The Dark Side brought power, but for even the wise it also brought overconfidence. It was his own overconfidence that had allowed his old Master to condemn him to the cybernetic body and claustrophobic breath mask that he had learned to accept, but never to like.

He would have to watch her closely if he were to adequately control her, to groom her into one with the power, and the wisdom, to rule the Galaxy as it should be ruled.

Although those thoughts weighed heavily on his dark mind, something even more threatening had drawn, or rather _wrenched_, his attention away. While leading Leia in her most recent training session, he felt an emptiness begin to fill his soul; it was one he had felt before, not very long before. While it was not nearly as intense as that last time, it was a sensation he would never forget as long as he lived. 

Admiral Ozzel's call from the bridge was superfluous; Vader and Leia were already on their way out of the training chamber when the comm beeped. Vader had said nothing to Leia since his abrupt order to follow him.

"What is it you're sensing, father?" Leia asked, her quiet voice just barely reverberating off the elevator walls. "I can tell something's troubling you, but not what."

Vader heard her question and part of him considered scolding her for not sensing it herself. Instead, he chose not to answer. She would learn soon enough, and he did not feel like explaining himself. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Vader strode out onto the bridge.

Leaning over a console operator's shoulder, Admiral Ozzel turned his head toward Vader. Immediately he straightened up and began marching toward the Dark Lord and his apprentice.

"Lord Vader, we've…" Ozzel started, but Vader and Leia walked right past him. In a surprised huff, he spun on his heel, tried to catch up with them, and continued, "My Lord, we've received a distress signal from the Kessel garrison. Their message says…"

"The Borg attacked the fleet," Vader rumbled. Ozzel, his mouth still open, immediately shut it and nodded. "Yes, my Lord."

Leia narrowed her eyes. _The Borg?_ She'd read the reports filed after the last attack: the one where they had kidnapped Governor Tarkin but had then been destroyed by the Death Star. Her father had told her he expected them to return, but could never get approval from the Emperor to hunt them down. The Emperor believed the Rebellion to be more of a threat, and Leia, as much out of distant hope as concern, agreed. "Did the message say where they came from?"

Ozzel did not reply, nor even look at her, as the trio stopped at the forward windows, Vader seemingly staring out into space. Leia had sensed Ozzel's ongoing disgust with her for some time; she knew he resented her for being less than half Ozzel's age but holding a higher rank in Vader's eyes. After another heartbeat of silence passed, she reached out gently with the Force, feeling her way to Ozzel's windpipe, and applied light pressure.

Ozzel's eyes opened a little wider and he cleared his throat. When his aristocratic throat hack came up dry, he cast an askance look to Leia. She felt his pulse quicken as he finally replied in a constrained voice, "According to the Assassin's last transmission, they came from the direction of the Maw." The invisible grip on his throat relaxed, and he tried to regain his normal haughty stance. "It must have been a sensor malfunction, though. _I_ know of nothing that could pass through the Maw." 

Vader turned his head toward Ozzel. "The Borg could," he boomed, before turning back toward the rear of the bridge. Vader chose not to continue that a highly-talented pilot, or a Force-user, could navigate such a wasteland as well. Leia, for her part, turned her head to the Admiral just long enough to catch the older man's eyes, scowl menacingly, and then follow her Master.

As Vader arrived at the communications station, Captain Piett stood at attention to silently greet him. "Did any of the Kessel fleet survive?" Vader asked.

"A short time ago we began receiving an automated distress signal from the _Assassin_, approximately twelve lightyears outside the Kessel system. They have not responded to any hails." Piett's face was gaunt, his eyes baggy with his approaching middle age. Despite his rank, he seemed as nervous and out of breath as a fresh-faced recruit when speaking to Vader.

Vader turned his head to Ozzel, who had just appeared to his left. "Admiral Ozzel, order the fleet to set course for the _Assassin_'s last known location. I will contact the Emperor personally and inform him. We will jump to hyperspace as soon as my transmission is completed." With that, he headed back toward the turbo elevator, Leia struggling to keep up with his accelerated pace. 

Once they were inside the elevator, Leia demanded, "Father, there's something you're not telling me. What is it?"

"Once I have sent my message to the Emperor, I will explain."

Leia frowned, but chose not to protest. "The Kessel fleet may have been old, but it was still powerful enough to lay waste to an entire planet. For something to have appeared out of nowhere and wiped them out without warning…" she trailed off. She was filled with a sudden sense of dread. If this force was able to so handily crush a whole garrison fleet and fill Darth Vader with this much concern, she feared that the galaxy now faced a danger greater than even the Empire.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_"Speak, my friend."_

"We have received a distress signal from the Kessel garrison's flagship. They report that the Borg have taken Kessel." _And if you'd let me hunt them down, you old fool_, Vader chose not to say, _we may have been able to prevent this_. He had always respected Palpatine for his political and strategic prowess, as well as his immense strength in the Force, but in Vader's opinion, Palpatine still made the occasional mistake. Considering the old man's extreme power and stature in the galaxy, his mistakes could be very big indeed.

_"Yes, I felt their disturbance in the Force,"_ the Emperor replied. _"It seems the traitor's allies were not fully eradicated when you last faced them."_

Vader clenched his teeth under his mask. The Emperor sometimes seemed to enjoy laying more blame on his Apprentice than Vader felt was warranted, "Yes, my Master, and they have amassed enough of a fleet to wipe out an entire garrison."

_"This is an affront on the Empire and everything we have built. Go to Kessel and crush them."_

"My fleet will depart as soon as possible, Master."

_"Good. I have one more command, Vader. When Kessel is reclaimed, you and your student will travel into the Maw. I am sending the exact course to your personal station."_

Vader stared at the Emperor's blue-hued, flickering image. _Into the Maw?_ "You believe the report of the Borg coming from the Maw to be correct?"

_"The Maw houses the top secret research facility where the Great Weapon was reverse-engineered and the Death Star's prototype built. Only two outside the facility, he and myself, knew of its existence. If Tarkin had indeed betrayed the Empire to the Borg, and survived your attack on the Borg ship, the Maw would have been a likely place for him to stage his treachery."_

Vader felt heat sear his scarred cheeks. _That is information that could have been much more useful two years ago!_ "I understand."

_"If they have taken it as their base, destroy it."_

"It will be done, Master." He bowed his head. As he said that, the Emperor's image vanished. A moment later, he both heard and felt the ship's lightspeed engines kick in.

Vader knew Palpatine was not a fool; thanks to his advanced ability of prescience, he made scant few mistakes. Vader hoped the Emperor had a plan that involved the Borg capture of Kessel. The other possibility shook him to his core; that the Borg, being so disruptive to the Force, also disrupted the Emperor's ability to foresee events. Palpatine was brilliant, but Vader was sure it was his ability to see the future through the Force that was the real reason for his repeated strategic successes.

If the second option was the case, Vader's confidence would rapidly decline.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

"Report, Admiral." 

"Lord Vader," Ozzel replied, a bit surprised that Vader had managed to sneak up on him. "We've arrived at our destination. We've found the _Assassin_ and are approaching at sublight."

"What is its condition?"

"We have not been able to establish contact with them, but sensors show their auxiliary generators are operational. Roughly half of their crew appears to have survived." Ozzel tried desperately to suppress a shudder. He knew that they would soon be facing the aliens that did this.

"Lord Vader, we're receiving a new transmission," came Piett's voice from behind. He had rushed forward so quickly that he had to catch his breath. "It's a coded distress signal." 

"On speakers," Vader ordered.

Piett signaled to the communications officer at the stern of the bridge, who went to work on his console. Immediately, the bridge speakers came to life: _"…perial cruiser Assassin. We have sustained heavy damage to our main engines and are operating on auxiliary generators. Our transponder systems are down, so we cannot identify your ships when you arrive. Our hyperdrive is destroyed, and we require towing to the nearest base for repairs. Please respond."_ Then, with a momentary burst of static, the message looped again. _"This is Acting Captain Vargas of the Imperial cruiser Assassin. We have sustained…"_

"Respond to him, Admiral," Vader said, watching the crippled ship through the front viewers, "now that we are apparently within their comm range." Ozzel snapped to attention and then hurried back toward the comm station. As Vader concentrated on the space outside the bridge, Leia reached out with the Force, trying to feel the presence that so disturbed Vader. 

"You will sense them when we are closer," Vader said quietly to her, apparently sensing her goal. "Draw in your power and, when the time is right, we will release it together." 

VVVVVVVVVVVV

The corridors leading to the cell block were empty, everyone being either busy trying to repair the ship, or having died in the battle. Marten wasn't sure if the seclusion helped, or made him feel worse. Then again, he felt it could be useful.

"Slow down," Marten ordered, his breathing heavy. "I'm not well." The guards responded by gripping his arms tighter. _Damn_, Marten thought ruefully, _even the non-clone guards are impudent bastards._

As they kept marching, Marten's breath became more and more labored. His head bobbed forward and back with each breath, and he pressed his bound hands to his stomach.

Before the guards could react, Marten pitched forward, his feet flying out from underneath him. He collapsed into a heap on the floor, rolling onto his back, and twitching restlessly. One guard immediately pointed his blaster rifle at the captain while the other stepped away and tapped his helmet comlink.

Marten's eyes rolled in their sockets, but he managed to keep them pointed in the general direction of the first guard. The second, he supposed, was calling for medical assistance. That meant he had only a second to act.

The first guard was checking his throat for a pulse, and was holding his rifle in just one hand. Marten took advantage of that momentary lapse in caution. He whipped his hands up and grasped the rifle's rough barrel in his hands. Before the guard could react, the stock had swung back to Marten's chest and he used that leverage to pull the trigger with one of his thumbs. Had the guard not been at point blank range, the shot would have soared past his head. Fortune was on Marten's side, though, and the bolt struck the guard just below the eye.

Martin rolled to one side, repeatedly pulling back on the trigger. The shots sprayed wide in no particular pattern, but a few managed to strike the other guard before he could train his weapon on Marten.

With both guards dead, Marten rolled onto his stomach and scooted across the deck to the first one. He fumbled in the guard's belt pouch until he found the binder release key. Despite his obvious lack of coordination, Marten managed to insert the key, and the binders popped open. His hands free, he scrambled for the blaster he'd used, jumped to his feet, and started running back down the corridor.

As he ran, he reflected on what he had just done. Even if he could have survived a tribunal over his actions on Kessel, he had just killed two Imperial soldiers. Mutineers, perhaps, but after Vargas' betrayal, he had lost his trust of anyone else. They didn't understand him, and they never would. His only choice was to run. Maybe even join the Rebellion. He was sure _they_ could use a brilliant tactician like him.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

Marten sat in the shuttle's cockpit and immediately closed the external hatch. There had been two more of the traitorous guards in the _Assassin_'s belly launchbay's command office, assisting a handful of technicians who had been tinkering with the atmospheric shield. They had all fallen under Marten's blaster fire, though he had also, by accident, damaged the console on which they were working. Still, he had managed to reach the shuttle before anything more disastrous could happen. 

He ran through the startup sequence, and just before the engines came fully online, the atmospheric shield flickered off and back on. A brief rush of air struck the shuttle, causing its landing gear to scrape against the deck, and a siren sounded throughout the bay.

_Dammit!_ Marten thought. _I have to get out of here now!_ He flicked on the repulsorlifts. They groaned in protest, having not had enough time to warm up. Still, they provided enough lift to raise the shuttle off its landing struts.

No time to waste, he tapped the main engine button lightly. The ship was jolted as its rear thrusters, also not fully warmed yet, let out a burst of exhaust and then stalled. The slight push had started the ship toward the empty space separating his bay from the one directly opposite. Cursing, Marten re-started the engines and tried to idle them high to force them to warm up more quickly.

The atmospheric shield flickered again, and then died completely. The hurricane-force winds seemed to grab the shuttle and pull it out toward space, just as the bay's emergency door began sliding shut from the left side of the . Marten grasped the controls and immediately engaged the rear thrusters, trying to aim for the right side of the large egress hatch. The rushing air made it difficult for him to control, but Marten knew his choice now was either to escape, or to be smashed into a bloody pulp against the closing door.

He punched the accelerator, and while the engines groaned, they did not fail this time. He gained some control back, with no time to spare. The ship crossed the threshold just as the emergency door slid past, clipping the edge of one of the shuttle's retracted wings. The shuttle yawed left just as Marten tried to aim it downward and away from the opposite bay. With a thunk and a metallic screech, the shuttle's top fin struck the _Assassin_'s hull just at the bottom of the opposite launch bay.

Then, he was free. He raised his hands in triumph, and immediately flung them back onto the controls when he saw what was heading in his direction: a dozen more Star Destroyers, including a massive _Executor_-class ship. 

_Not just _Executor_-class_, Marten thought with sinking dread. _The_Executor_ itself. Vader's ship._ He swung the shuttle around and keyed the navicomputer, praying that he hadn't yet been seen.

VVVVVVVVVVVV

"Commander," called a comm technician. "Launch Bay 4 has lost its atmospheric shield. A shuttle was ejected before the emergency door could…wait…" 

"What is it?" asked Vargas, leaning over the man's shoulder.

"The shuttle left under its own power, sir. The crew of that bay is not responding."

As if the console's display were giving him this information, he cast a confused gaze onto it. "Why would they take a shuttle? The control booth's seals weren't reported as damaged."

"Sir," said another technician behind Vargas. "Two dead guards have been found on level 24, corridor 83-27. They weren't there during the casualty sweep, and they were shot with a blaster."

Vargas tilted his head. Understanding then rushed through his brain like molten plasteel. "Do we have turbolasers in range of that shuttle?" he shouted to the tactical officer.

"Two banks are operational in range of the shuttle. Seven more can be brought back online in…" 

"Target that shuttle and destroy it."

The tactical officer tilted his head with confusion, then immediately swiveled back to his console. "Tracking target. His shields are down. Firing solution in ten seconds."

VVVVVVVVVVVV

_Shields, where are the damn shields?_ Marten frantically scanned the panel for the defensive controls. The navicomputer was still beeping as it continued computing his course.

Seconds later, the sensors picked up turbolaser fire heading toward him. The first couple shots missed, but they were already extremely close. Without a second though, Marten threw the hyperdrive switch. The starfield in his viewer stretched into starlines…

…just as the shuttle was struck from behind. The gravity generator in his seat just barely kept him from flying out of it, and being crushed against a bulkhead in the massive acceleration. The starlines melted momentarily into a blue swirl and congealed back into starlines, which then shrunk back into stars.

The panel in front of him started smoking as sirens blared all around him. Unsure of what to do, he thrust his hands to his ears and pulled his knees to his chest. As he started rocking, his breath caught in his throat.

In his haste to escape, he hadn't bothered to enter a flight path. He had simply shot forward in the direction the shuttle was facing at the moment the hyperdrive engaged.

Because his luck had truly gone sour, or because whatever gods there were hated him so, the planetoid growing in his front viewer was the one he'd seen shrink away a couple hours before.

Kessel.

And hovering around it, almost as if they were waiting for him, were several Borg cubes. 

Marten pressed his hands to either side of his head and began crying silently.


End file.
